


The Catastrophe of Staci Melina’s Sweet Sixteen

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Birthday Party, Eventual Romance, F/F, Falling In Love, Hypnotism, Peer Pressure, Tarot, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 21:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20767457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: Kaylee, the most popular girl at school, finds her life is turned upside-down when she’s unexpectedly hypnotized at a friend’s birthday party.  Now all the kids are scandalized because she was caught kissing another girl!





	1. The Devil is a Tricky Card

**Author's Note:**

> A reader challenged me to write a story about how two fourteen-year-old girls might find love through an unexpected use of hypnotism. I liked the idea, but only on the stipulation that there couldn't be any sex between characters who were so young. That appealed to my reader, and I was off and running.
> 
> A note in case you are discovering my work for the first time. In all my other stories to date, there are explicit sex scenes following the hypnotism scene. So please be warned if you want to check out any of my other stories...

** _Minneapolis, February 2019_ **

“Kaylee! Izzy! **_Did you hear?!?_**” Melanie near-shouts, rushing up to Izzy and me. Her eyes look slightly crazed.

Izzy and I share a quizzical glance. Its 7:30 AM, for freaks’ sake. On a Tuesday. We, and all our classmates are filing into school. There’s a light blanket of snow falling, but not enough for a snow day. What could **_possibly_** be so earth-shattering?

“What?” Izzy snaps, annoyed that Melanie has interrupted her story.

“Staci Melina…” Melanie wheezes, gasping for breath. “Staci Melina…”

Izzy rolls her eyes.

“Staci Melina’s birthday party…” Melanie finally manages. “She’s having it…”

Now I’m intrigued. Staci Melina is turning sixteen this June, and that’s a big, big deal. Oh, Staci is only the prized daughter of Jack Melina, executive director of Mayo Paluminary Medicine, the biggest employer in Minneapolis and one of the most super-important hospital… uh, thingies **_in the whole freakin’ world_**. The Melinas are, like, local royalty. You should see their house!

“Calm down,” I sigh at Melanie. “Breathe, girl. What is-“

“Dua Lipa!” squeaks Melanie. “Dua Lipa, Dua Lipa, Dua Lipa! Staci's Sweet Sixteen birthday party will be at the **_Dua Lipa concert_**, you guys! In box seating!!! **_And with backstage passes!!!_**”

Izzy and I immediately drop our irritated expressions. **_DUA LIPA CONCERT?!?_** This is joyous news, indeed! Hallelujah!

Oh, **_excuse_** me? You don’t know Dua Lipa? Okay, you need to stop reading this story right now, get thee to Google, and catch up with the times. You must stream all her songs and bask in her freakin’ awesome aura. You will thank me.

“Are you serious?” Izzy demands, almost grabbing Melanie by the coat.

Melanie nods furiously, an ear-to-ear smile creeping across her face.

My friends and I stare at one another in wonder. **_We’re gonna meet Dua Lipa?!?_** Omigod, have I been heaven-blessed or something? This must be my divine reward because… I don’t know, because I have the saintlike grace to put up with my troglodyte brother. I **_knew_** the universe was looking for a way to reward me.

Izzy, Melanie, and I can’t contain ourselves. Although the less popular kids are beginning to stare – I’ll punish them later – we three grasp hands and begin jumping up and down in shock and glee. I begin laughing uncontrollably, and my girls join in. Its like we’re in kindergarten or something.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!!!” I sing over and over. I literally am too excited to control myself.

It takes a few minutes before we can calm down and come back to Earth. “Oh my God…!” I keep mumbling.

I catch Jenny Hallows, that overweight cow, gaping at me.

“Mind your own fucking business!” I snarl at her. Jenny and all the kids around her obediently drop their eyes.

Izzy grips my arm. “Kaylee, you’re sure Staci will invite us???” she asks hopefully.

I nod with confidence. **_Of course_** Staci will invite us! First of all, my girls and I are easily the prettiest and most popular bitches in the greater Kenwood area. We always get invited to the best parties. Its, like, totally a given.

Now, you might point out that Izzy, Melanie, and I are one year younger than Staci. We’re fourteen, she’s fifteen. We’re at the very top of the social pyramid at Kenwood Middle School; Staci is a mere freshman at Kenwood High. …and not very popular, from what I’ve heard… Just sayin’…

But here’s the thing: My mom is best friends with Staci’s mom, and I’ve been invited to every Staci Melina birthday party since Staci and me were in diapers. And **_that_** means Izzy and Melanie are getting invites too, because Mrs. Melina knows I don’t do anything without my girlfriends.

I sigh happily. I can’t possibly concentrate on my schoolwork today. Soon… well, in, like, five months, I’ll be backstage with freakin’ **_DUA LIPA_**, and she and me will talk, and she’ll think I’m so supercool, and she’ll be all like, “_We should totally hang,_” and then I’ll be her BFF on all her tours and stuff. Ah, the future looks bright.

“Hey,” Izzy says suddenly. “Who is **_that?_**”

My future plans are pushed from my brain as I follow Izzy’s gaze. There, directly before the school, is a long, black SUV. One of those armored monsters that looks like a giant beetle and is horrible for the environment. The uniformed driver pops out and leaves the engine idling as he walks to the passenger door.

“Huh,” Melanie says, impressed.

The passenger door is opened, and a girl our age steps out. I’ve never seen this chick before. She’s very pretty, with soft green eyes, cascading brown hair, and a delicate nose. Her eyebrows are carefully painted, and she has the longest lashes I’ve ever seen. The girl wears a school uniform, with a button-down blouse, tie, and a matching pleated suitcoat and skirt. Her shoes are brand-new and shine with polish.

The girl casts a cautious look about, which only makes the nearby kids stare all the more.

There’s something about this chick. Like, I can’t put my finger on it, but she is not from Minnesota. She’s not Midwestern. Maybe she’s… from New York City? Maybe. Huh.

Interesting.

*********

“She’s from Argentina,” Izzy reports at study hall. “Her name is… Um, Catalina. Catalina Villalba, I think she said.”

Melanie and I chew on this information. “How do you know?” I say, skeptical.

“She’s in my first period Social Studies,” replies Izzy. “Mr. Conners made her get up in front of the class and tell us.” She snickers. “Poor sap. She looked terrified. I could barely hear her.”

“Argentina,” I say slowly. “Isn’t that in… Africa, right? She doesn’t look African.”

Melanie shakes her head. “No, I think Argentina is in Europe. Like, between Italy and Greece, or something.”

“Whatever,” I scoff, annoyed that Mel has the gall to correct me. “Well, whoever she is, she’s rich. Cause that wasn’t Daddy who dropped her off this morning.”

“Her dad’s a brain surgeon, or something,” Izzy reports. “He’s gonna work at Mayo.”

“Figures,” I say.

There’s a pause as my friends and I try to focus on Pre-Algebra.

“You know,” I muse, “I bet this Catalina is a complete freak. Like, she wouldn’t know what to do if you took her to the movie theatre. Or the mall.”

“I’m pretty sure they have movie theatres in Argentina,” Izzy counters.

“Whatevs,” I sneer. “That girl may think she’s high and mighty because of her family’s money… but I’ll bet she won’t fit in here. Not in this school.”

Izzy and Melanie exchange a glance, but say nothing.

*********

My suspicions that this Catalina girl is a total deluxe freakazoid about a week after she arrives at our school. Izzy and I are cruising afterschool study hall. Izzy’s flea-brained mom is late to pick us up, as usual.

Izzy is checking her phone, in clear violation of school rules. “I still haven’t gotten it,” she frets.

I notice a gaggle of kids gathered around the far table. They’re all staring down at a desk… I wonder why? Jesus, I hope Hector Kline wasn’t stupid enough to bring another Hustler to school again.

“…you haven’t gotten what?” I ask Izzy.

“Staci’s Sweet Sixteen invite,” my friend pouts. “I heard that the Dua Lipa concert is, like, sold out. If we’re going to the concert for Staci’s party, her parents would have sent out invites by now… right?”

“I’m sure its fine,” I huff.

But now that I think about it… Izzy may have a point. Last year, Staci’s parents took us all to North Commons Water Park, for the Deluxe Party Package. We got that invite in early January.

Annoyed, I pull out my phone and text Staci: **_U there?_**

Nothing. The hell?

I text again: **_Im coming over after school, ok? CUthen_**

The kids grouped around the table laugh and applaud. Now most of the study hall is craning their necks to see what’s going on. And despite myself, I’m intrigued.

“C’mon,” I order Izzy. We shoulder our way through the thin crowd.

WTF…? Seated at the desk is that Catalina girl, her long ponytail and makeup perfect as always. I hate to admit it, but the chick is beautiful. Perhaps as beautiful as I am… but you didn’t hear that from me.

On the table before Catalina are playing cards, highly colorful cards each depicting a different scene or person. The artistry is quite cool, actually.

“What’s this?” I demand. The kids all around us quickly fall silent. No-one dares look me in the eye. Very wise.

But Catalina hasn’t gotten the memo. With a cool and almost defiant expression, she regards me with something like… contempt? Distain? I can’t place it.

It may be time to put this chick in her place.

“We’re doing readings,” Catalina tells me, that strange accent lilting in the air. “Something I learned while studying in Europe.”

I frown, inspecting the cards more closely. Now I realize: These aren’t playing cards. I see no numbers, no diamonds, hearts, clubs, spades. Each card is completely unique, with a different picture and a neat little label beneath.

I don’t get it. “Is this… like, Magic the Gathering?” I frown. My idiot brother plays that stupid game with his loser friends. I’ll be **_seriously_** disappointed if Catalina turns out to be a Magic Nerd.

“This is Tarot,” Cataline replies coolly, gathering up the cards into the deck. “They tell the future. Not that you’d be interested in that.”

The other kids exchange glances. I bristle. Was I just **_insulted?_**

“I’ve heard of this,” Izzy says, not picking up on my anger. “Gypsies do this, right? They read the future by-“

“Everyone has a destiny,” Catalina explains, shuffling the deck. “The Tarot cards can see that destiny, and in the hands of the right reader, they can tell you what will happen.” She gestures to the kids around us. “We were doing some readings.”

“I’m gonna be rich!” Justin Fellows exclaims, his eyes shining.

“What?” I recoil. “You can’t **_possibly_** believe that. What, are you an idiot, or something?”

Justin shrinks away.

Catalina’s eyes flash. “The cards give us clues to our future. Sometimes we understand them clearly. Sometimes not. Only the ignorant discount them completely.”

“So is this what you freaks do in Arginteeny?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “Looks like black magic to me. Or a con.”

The other kids stare.

Catalina’s eyes flash. “We shall see,” she says boldly. “Perhaps I should do a reading on you?”

Is this weird freak trying to embarrass me? Oh, she’ll regret that.

So I force a laugh. “Whatever.”

The foreign girl tosses her ponytail, cutting the deck. Her eyes never leave mine. With deliberate showmanship, she draws one card and lays it face up on the desk.

Everyone leans in to see the card. It depicts what looks like a guy skipping through a field. He has a bundle hanging from a stick over his shoulder. He looks almost delirious.

“The Fool,” Catalina remarks. She flicks those soft, brown eyes up to meet my gaze. “That’s you,” she tells me.

The other kids gasp. Outraged, I almost slap the bitch. “**_You calling me a fool?_**” I growl.

Catalina puts up a delicate hand. “No, no, you don’t understand,” she says quickly. “The Fool is a person who is about to undergo a journey, and they don’t know what lies before them.” She adds, almost sympathetically, “It’s a strong card.”

I’m momentarily at a loss for words. I still think I’ve been slammed… but I’m not sure.

The Argentinean draws a second card, placing this one to the right of the Fool. This one shows… a burning castle? What the fuck?

“Ah,” says Catalina. “The Tower. This one signifies…” She screws up her eyes, thinking. “Sudden change. An awakening. Discovery of a new personal truth.”

“Oh yeah?” I scoff. “If this means discovering something about yourself, how come the castle is **_on fire?_**”

“That’s a long story, don’t focus on it,” Catalina says almost dismissively.

I **_really_** don’t like this chick.

I should deliver a really withering put-down, to slash this girl into ribbons. The time is ripe; we’re surrounded by our peers. One well-delivered remark, juiced with just the right amount of sarcasm and venom, will shatter her self-esteem. What part of her should I hit? Her looks? Her weight? Should I imply that she smells? Or that she’s a total freak, who will never be truly American? I need to choose my target wisely.

Meanwhile, Catalina is drawing a third card. “Finally,” she says, “we have…”

She lays the card down. This card shows… an upside-down goat man with horns and an ugly expression. Satanic. Ugh.

“The Devil, but reversed,” Catalina pronounces. She taps her fingers against the table, lost in thought.

“The **_Devil?_**” Lori Becker exclaims. “You’re saying Kaylee is the-“

I shoot a fiery glare at Lori. The stupid girl immediately goes pale and shuts up.

“The Devil is a tricky card,” Catalina admits. She scrunches up her face, thinking. “When its reversed, I think it means… exploring your inner dark side. Which is not a bad thing.”

“Uh-huh,” I glower.

“Its not,” Catalina insists. “In fact, the Tarot book I’m reading insists that ‘dark side’ just means a side of your personality that is a part of you, but suppressed.”

“You mean… like Kaylee’s a secret axe murderer or something?” Izzy has the stupid gall to ask.

“No, no,” replies Catalina, studying me thoughtfully. “It just means that there’s some part of Kaylee’s psyche that she doesn’t know about, but-“

I’ve had enough. “This is such **_bullshit_**,” I snarl, and snatch Catalina’s deck out of her hands before she can respond.

There’s a horrified gasp from the other kids. Good.

I now lean over Catalina, my eyes blazing. “Take your stupid witchcraft cards and go back to Argentina, where freaks like you are welcome,” I taunt her. “’Cause you’ll **_never_** be welcome here. Bitch.”

Catalina’s eyes widen as my barb hits home. She’s mortified.

** _Good._ **

I fling Catalina’s deck straight into the air. Then, as the cards rain down all around us, I turn and stalk away.

*********

Within a few minutes, Izzy’s mom is driving Izzy and me home. “Did you girls have a good day at school?” she asks cheerfully.

“Yeah, very nice,” I say absently.

I am in the backseat, furiously tapping away on my phone, texting my network of friends. I am spreading every malicious lie I can think of about that horrid Argentinean. **_Did u know she does Gypsy voodoo?_** I spew. **_Shes prob not even Christian. Shes prob into wicca or horrible witchs cult ugggh creepy_**

The responses I’m getting back are encouraging: **_OMG that skank always creeped me out so weird_** agrees Bethany. **_Sicko_** **_its like shes from another planet_** offers Melanie. Chimes in Tricia: **_prob also a pervert_**

I advise everyone: **_Spread the word_**

While I’m working my friends, I almost miss a text from Staci. She writes: **_OK_**

OK? What the fuck is that? Is she agreeing with me that Catalina is the vilest creature of the century? What?

Oh, wait. I remember. Before Catalina did her freakish Tarot thing, I’d asked Staci if I could come over. To make sure things are still set for her Sweet Sixteen. Staci is probably home now, wondering where I am.

“Hey, Mrs. Miller,” I say to Izzy’s mom. “Can you drop me at the Melina’s?”

*********

Mrs. Melina answers the door, and right away, I can tell that something’s up. The woman’s eyes are red and her heavy mascara is running down her cheeks.

“Oh, hello Kaylee,” she says when she sees me, managing an unconvincing smile.

I’m ushered inside, and I immediately head up to Staci’s bedroom. The door is closed, so I knock and then let myself in.

“Hey Stace,” I say cheerfully. “Geez, what’s up with your mom?”

Staci is lying belly-down on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“Hey… what is it?” I say, now a little alarmed.

Staci doesn’t respond.

I rush to her side, dropping to my knees. “Seriously, girl,” I say softly. “What’s goin’ on?”

When Staci lifts her head, I see she’s been crying too. “My mom and dad,” she groans pitifully. “They’re getting a divorce…!”

My jaw drops. Staci begins to sob again.

“Oh my God,” I mumble.

A thousand different reactions flood over me at the same time. In the passion of the moment, I grab Staci and then ask the most important question of all:

“We’re still all going to Dua Lipa for your Sweet Sixteen… **_right?!?_**”

*********


	2. The Dua Lipa Experience

** **

** _Five months later…_ **

Well, its official. The Melinas are getting divorced. It seems that Mr. Melina picked up a coffee barista chick who worked around the corner from his office. He bought her jewelry, took her to shows, began renting a room at the Radisson Blu Hotel downtown every Saturday night. Eventually someone saw them smooching in the park, or something. Now he’s moved out and no-one in town will talk to Mrs. Melina. Poor sap.

Staci isn’t handling the situation well. She’s put on, like, twenty pounds and never hangs out anymore. She had a part in the high school play, but actually dropped out. No-one ever drops out of the school play! I don’t see her much, but she sounds like a total wreck.

Meanwhile, no word on her Sweet Sixteen. No word! Invites were never sent out, but… I mean, the Melinas probably forgot to do that, right? They wouldn’t get box seats/backstage passes for **_DUA LIPA_** and then not actually throw the party, would they?

No. They couldn’t do that to me. The universe couldn’t possibly be so cruel.

*********

Just when I’m thinking I’ll have to confront Staci about what the fuck is going on, we get the text. I’m sitting in the back of History class, waiting for Mrs. Kildeare to finish collecting the last pop quiz of the year. My phone vibes, and I risk a quick glance.

Its from Staci! An invite link! It says:

** _YOU ARE INVITED! STACI MELINA’S SWEET SIXTEEN!_ **

** _Yeah, our little Staci is finally a grown woman, and we want you to celebrate!_ **

Blah blah blah, precious memories, we remember when Little Staci was just a toddler, sob sob sob. Mr. Melina obviously wrote this garbage. He’s a big ‘ol sentimental dork, always talking about how milestones make him all emotional and shit. Too bad he couldn’t keep his wiener in his pants.

At the bottom, I notice something that worries me:

** _WHEN: Monday, June 24, 3pm_ **

** _WHERE: 307 Mt Curve Ave, Kenwood, MN 55403_ **

Okay, I know for a **_fact_** that Dua Lipa’s show is on the 24th, so that’s a good sign. But why the fuck are we meeting at… what I think is… Mr. Melina’s new house? Maybe we’re gonna all get on a bus together before we go to the concert?

Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

Still feeling apprehensive, I tap **_ACCEPT_** on the invite, then quickly tuck my phone away.

*********

School lets out for the summer, and I get distracted with the usual summery things. My moron parents force me to go on a totally horrendous road trip to see my ancient relatives in Milwaukee. I spend so much time on my phone, it nearly melts in my hand. When we (finally) get back, I’ve almost forgotten what Gaviidae Common Mall looks like.

When I meet up with my girls, Melanie almost punches me in the arm. “You forget?” she asks me, incredulous.

I’m not amused. “Forgot **_what?_**” I ask.

“Today!” Melanie replies. “Sheri’s Sweet Sixteen!”

I stare at my friend, immediately remembering. Ohhhhhhh yeah! **_Fuck me!_** Today is the 24th!

**_HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!_** Today is the day I meet Dua Lipa!!!

*********

Guilting Melanie’s older brother into driving us, we speed to 307 Mt Curve Ave, Kenwood, MN 55403, which is, yes, where Mr. Melina has been renting a house. It’s a pretty nice house, actually. Big, with nice French windows on the second floor. No-one’s tending the overgrown yard, however. I guess the divorce means Mr. Melina can’t afford landscapers.

Funny thing… I don’t see the bus that’s taking us to the concert. But the show starts at 7:30. So maybe we’re doing a movie and pizza first?

“What boys will be at this party?” Izzy asks, absently patting her hair. “Anyone worth collecting, do you think?”

I flash her an annoyed look. My friends always think that snagging a man will make them happy in life. But I’ve met all the boys in our class, and I have serious doubts I could ever find romantic bliss with any of them.

*********

The party is held in the back yard, where Mr. Melina has set up a lot of folding chairs on his patio, all lined up in a row, facing away from the house. There’s a sign (“**_HAPPY SWEET 16 STACI!!!_**”), a crappy deejay, low-budget catering, and a makeshift dance floor. There’s, like, fifty kids here, and I’m not at all surprised to see that no-one is dancing. Hmm, what else?

Over by the gift table, looking miserable, is Staci. Oh man, she’s really **_let herself go_**. I mean, she was chubby **_before_** her dad got caught fooling around, but now… Sheesh. I’m totally embarrassed for her.

“Hey,” Melanie says with a sharp tone in her voice.

I follow her gaze and then bristle. You know who else is here?

Catalina. That Argentinean bitch. She’s holding a plastic cup and regaling the football players with some boring story about… who cares what about. The boys seem to be hanging on her every word, though.

“How’d **_she_** get in?” I growl. I still haven’t forgiven Catalina for her insolence earlier this year.

“Apparently,” Izzy murmurs, “she’s really popular with the losers. Like, they actually find her interesting, or something.”

Or something. It seems I haven’t crushed that girl enough. I make a mental note to resume my smear campaign once this dullsville party is over.

*********

We eat the substandard food, talk with friends we haven’t seen since school let out, pretend we haven’t noticed the dance floor. I put stupid Catalina out of my head and enjoy the perks of this party: Jamal Taylor, Stephan Johansson, and all the kissable football bros are here. Mmmm, very kissable. I watch Jamal’s lips, and I think: _I’d like to taste that_.

But… the boys are fine eye candy, no doubt. But could I imagine getting close to them? I don’t know. I have a sinking feeling they’d feel me up, then move on to the next pretty thing.

I force myself to stop thinking about stupid boys. Its now almost five. Shouldn’t we be getting on the bus now?

I decide to take matters into my own hands. I set down my punch, and then make my way over to Staci.

“Happy birthday, girlfriend!” I coo, making a grand show of hugging her. “Sixteen years old! You’re a **_woman_** now, baby!”

“Hey Kaylee,” Staci mopes. She hasn’t smiled once at this party.

“So when do you get the credit card?” I half-mock, slipping one arm around Staci’s portly shoulders.

My chubby friend makes a weak smile.

“Listen, Stace,” I say, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I didn’t want to say anything, but some of the other kids are starting to wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“When are we going downtown to Armory?” I prod. “You know, for the Dua Lipa concert.”

Staci stares at me. “There’s no concert,” she confesses.

“**_What?_**” I drawl. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

“My parents never got tickets for Dua Lipa,” cringes Staci. “What, with the divorce and the money going to lawyers… They just couldn’t do it.”

**_NO DUA LIPA CONCERT?!?_** Are you fucking kidding me?!? How… Why… How could… I don’t…!!!

** _!!!_ **

I think my head is about to explode.

“**_How could you do this to me?!?_**” is all I can manage to sputter at Staci.

“I’m so sorry, Kaylee!” wails my fat friend. “My dad got some different entertainment. I wanted to tell you, but…” She breaks into tears.

Every kid at this party stops and gawks at us. Oh my God, I want to die. I literally want to die.

HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?!? I’m **_SUPPOSED_** to meet Dua Lipa backstage, I’m **_SUPPOSED_** to wow her with my sheer coolness, I’m **_SUPPOSED_** to get whisked out of the shitsburg and… and… and…

Oh my God, I’m so angry, I literally can’t cope. I just can’t.

At this moment, Mr. Melina appears on the patio. “Hey there, kids!” he cries out, using that smarmy _I-think-you’re-all-little-children_ voice of his.

Everyone falls silent to watch him. The deejay turns off the music.

“Everyone having a fun time?” mugs Mr. Melina.

Crickets.

“Great!” beams Staci’s idiot father. “Now, are you ready for the **_MAIN EVENT?_**” Embarrassingly, he tries to sound hip. “Let’s all make some noise, boys and girls, for the _coooooolest _dude in showbiz… **_Dazzlin’ Jack Slade!!!_**”

Mr. Melina applauds madly and then retreats as a much younger man bounds out of the house. This new fellow jogs to the center of the patio, instantly taking command of everyone’s attention.

“Yo, everyone!” he cries out, raising one hand to wave at us.

I hesitate. This guy… he’s gorgeous! In a flash, I forget my rage.

I know, I know… I sound like a total fangirl. But… damn… you have to see this man to get where I’m coming from. He’s… like, wow, he’s **_perfect_**. Perfect square jaw. Perfect white teeth. Perfect blue eyes. Perfect glowing skin. Thick, thick brown hair, in a smart Ivy League haircut. Firm nose, strong but not too large. A smile that could melt any woman’s heart.

And Jesus, he’s muscled, yet lean. You can tell from his broad shoulders, bulging pecs, but itty-bitty waist that the dude must be **_ripped_** under that trendy button-down shirt. I can see his biceps – nice, round, firm. Ohhhhhhhhhh yeah, he turns slightly, and yes… nice butt. Oh-so-nice butt.

**_Who is this guy?_** Because I might have found my future husband. So what if I’m ten years younger? Love will find a way.

“Yo yo **_YO_**, you guys!” the Dude cries out, and Oh My God, even his husky voice is crazy sexy. “I’m Jack Slade, entertainer extraordinaire, the Man who can give a party like no other, a Mentalist like you’ve never seen before! **_What’s up, Kenwood?!?_**

“Let me tell you all something, something important,” Slade says intensely. He’s got charisma; instantly, every kid at this party is in the palm of his hand. “I put on a show like you’ve never heard of, never seen before, nay, never even could have **_possibly conceived!_** How do I do it? What gives me such magic?” He leans towards us, his eyes glowing. “I’m a master of the mind, my friends, an expert on human thought. I can give you experiences **_beyond_** what you thought imagination could achieve.”

I have no idea what Slade is talking about, but immediately, I want to follow him anywhere. And I can tell, this guy has impressed all my peers, too. The guys are nodding in brotherly solidarity as he speaks. The girls, like me, are gazing at him with stars in their eyes.

“Who **_is_** this guy?” I mutter to Staci.

“My dad hired him,” Staci whimpers, mistaking my low tone for anger. “When he realized he couldn’t afford the concert tickets. Dad said he wanted something unique for me that no other girl could get at her Sweet Sixteen.”

“Okay…” I reply, still gratefully sweeping my eyes over Slade’s lean body. “But what does he do? Sing?”

“Let me show you what I do,” the entertainer says, as if detecting my question. “You, ma’am, can you step up here?”

It takes us all a second to realize: he’s addressing Izzy!

“Yes, you,” Slade smiles, gesturing to my friend. “C’mon, this’ll be fun.”

Looking flattered and terrified, Izzy steps forward, accepting Slade’s masculine hand. He propels her onto the stage as if they’re about to waltz.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” he asks.

“I- I- Izzy. I mean, Isabella,” is the dazzled response.

“Wonderful, thanks Izzy,” Slade smiles, taking both her hands. “Look at straight at me, please?”

Izzy is perfectly still, gazing up into those crystal blue eyes.

“Izzy,” Slade says, speaking rapidly and confidently, “in just a moment, I will snap my fingers. When I do, you will close your eyes and drop deep, deep, deep into relaxation. Do you understand?” He doesn’t wait for her to reply. “**_Sleep!_**” he cries, snapping his fingers once with a flamboyant gesture in the air.

Kids gasp in alarm as Izzy’s eyes shut. She sags on her feet, about to tumble onto the patio stones.

But Slade’s beefy arm leaps out, neatly catching her. Izzy slumps against the entertainer, nestled comfortably in his embrace. I can clearly see her face; her expression is blank, as if there isn’t a thought in her mind.

“Well done, well done!” Slade crows, cradling Izzy like a baby. “In a moment, I’ll snap my fingers again, and you’ll awaken, feeling refreshed, wonderful, and delighted you came up here. Do you understand?”

Once again, he doesn’t wait for an answer. “**_Awake!_**” he shouts, snapping his fingers again.

Izzy comes back to life, a wide grin on her face. With Slade helping her, she stands straight up. Her eyes are dancing with joy.

“Oh… wow!” she exclaims. “That was… wow!”

Holy shit. What just happened?

“You like that, huh?” Slade laughs.

Izzy nods eagerly. She gazes at Slade as if she’s in love.

“Do me a favor, will you darlin’?” the godlike entertainer asks her. “Will you have a seat there, please?”

He indicates one of the folding chairs on the patio.

“Oh. Oh! Sure, sure,” stammers Izzy. She quickly hurries to a chair.

Slade waits until she is sitting. “Now… look at me,” he instructs firmly, pointing directly at her eyes.

Izzy stares back, a deer in the headlights.

“**_Sleep!_**” booms Slade, snapping his fingers once more.

Without hesitation, Izzy’s eyes close. Her face goes slack, and she slumps forward like a puppet with the strings cut. She might actually… be asleep!

“Holy fucking cow…” I say under my breath. “For real, who **_is_** this guy?”

“He’s a stage hypnotist,” Staci breathes. She sounds terrified. “I told Daddy… you guys wouldn’t want a hypnotist. I **_told_** him.”

“A hypnotist?” I echo, dumbfounded.

“You, sir,” Slade says in that commanding voice, now pointing at Billy McCreedy, our quarterback. “Come up here?”

Billy approaches, drawn like a moth to the flame.

“Hi, I’m Jack Slade,” the entertainer says, reaching to shake Billy’s hand. Billy accepts his grip without any resistance. Like he has no will of his own.

“**_Sleep!_**” commands Slade, snapping his fingers. Billy closes his eyes and is still as a statue, frozen in Slade’s handshake.

Slade grins, now touching Billy’s shoulder. “Sit next to Izzy, and drop deeper into sleep,” he instructs the football player.

Billy opens his eyes, although his expression is glassy and vacant. Like a robot, he moves to the chair next to Izzy. He sits, closes his eyes, and tumbles into a deep slumber.

I’m flabbergasted. How is Slade **_doing_** this?

With complete disbelief, I watch as the hottie entertainer summons more of my friends. One-by-one, classmates are called up, then put under the hypnotist’s power with a snap of his fingers. The chairs around Izzy and Billy are filling up fast. No-one who is seated moves a muscle once they are commanded into sleep.

Slade smiles, enjoying himself. “You, please?” he asks, pointing to another someone in the audience.

Catalina, looking like she can’t resist what she is doing, rises to join Slade on the patio. Soon, she is directed to sit in a chair herself.

“**_Sleep!_**” Slade tells her, and Catalina is out and gone. She never has a chance.

“Holy shit…” I mutter to Staci.

As if he’s heard me, Slade turns his powerful gaze in our direction. Immediately, I feel myself tense. What if he puts his spell on me? Will I be put to sleep like the others?

Slade’s smile is warm and inviting. “Of course, I couldn’t forget the birthday girl,” he says grandly, and extends a hand toward Staci.

I hear my overweight friend gasp, and immediately I know: he’s got her. Staci steps forward, already in a trance. She walks straight up to Slade, staring at him as if she can’t look away.

“Relax, you’ll enjoy yourself so much more,” the entertainer promises Staci. “Please sit there?”

Staci obediently takes a chair at the end of the patio, right next to the slumbering Brian Neals.

“Excellent,” Slade murmurs. “**_Sleep_**, Staci.”

Instantly, Staci is out. Her eyes close and her face loses all expression. She’s a limp as a rag doll. Amazing.

“And there we are,” Slade says grandly. To the remaining kids watching this spectacle, he explains, “Your friends up here, they are all hypnotized. Deeply hypnotized, every one of them. You wonder what that means? Its simple, really. Each one of them is in a suggestive state where they cannot tell the difference between reality and what they imagine. They will experience every suggestion I give them as if it were really happening to them. And they’ll have a blast doing it.”

The hypnotist smiles, clasping his hands before himself. He swivels on his feet to face the row of entranced teenagers, awaiting his first commands.

“Now, hypnotized people,” Slade says. “In a moment I will count from one to five. When I reach five- Hold on a minute…”

He gestures to the extreme left of the patio. There is one chair left.

“I have room for one more,” announces Slade, turning back to the audience. “Any takers?”

Not one kid moves a muscle. Everyone is petrified, both figuratively and literally.

Slade chuckles, a cheerful sound. “Well,” his deep voice ripples, “waste not, want not. Let’s see here.”

In a grand gesture, he extends his right arm over us, slowly sweeping his hand through the air. I watch in horror…

…as his gaze comes to fall on me.

Our eyes lock.

Suddenly, I can’t move.

“Come,” Slade says simply.

On its own, my body steps forward, carrying me across the lawn and up onto the patio. All the while, I can only stare into those magnetic blue eyes. Its like I’m being pulled in, and I can’t resist. I feel strangely calm and panicked at the same time.

“There you are,” Slade tells me once I am standing before him. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

“Kaylee,” I automatically respond.

“Kaylee,” smiles Slade. “Tell me Kaylee, are you enjoying this party?”

I have to answer him. “No,” I find myself saying.

“No?” His Royal Hotness repeats, seemingly amused. “And why is that? Tell me truthfully.”

I have to answer him. “I thought we were going to the Dua Lipa concert,” I say obediently. “I wanted to meet her.”

Its like I have no will of my own. Slade prompts me, and I have to answer him. Am I hypnotized? How did he do this to me?

“Ah, I see,” Slade says, nodding his head. “What if you could experience something better than meeting Dua Lipa? Would that make this party for you?”

Immediately, I feel hopeful. “Yeah,” I say eagerly. “Yeah, it would.”

“**_Sleep_**, Kaylee,” orders Slade, passing a hand before my eyes.

*********

Everything goes dark. I feel myself falling, but Slade’s arm catches me and holds me against him, just like he did for Izzy. My thoughts are oddly quiet. I can hear the impressed murmurs of my peers, but I just don’t care about anything right now.

“When I awaken you, Kaylee,” Slade tells me, “you will discover that you are, in fact, **_Dua Lipa herself_**, here to give a command performance for all of these people here. When I hand you a microphone, you will sing, you will dance, you will perform exactly as Dua Lipa herself would. Because you **_are_** Dua Lipa.

“And for all my hypnotized volunteers on stage,” Slade continues in a loud voice, “you will awaken at the same time, and you will all be **_amazed_** to see that Kaylee here is, in fact, Dua Lipa. You will respond exactly as if Dua Lipa herself was here performing. **_Because she is._**”

“And now, awaken on… one, two, three, four… **_five!_**” cries the hypnotist.

*********

My eyes flutter open. I stand up on my own two feet, momentarily disoriented.

Oh wait – I know who I am. I’m Dua Lipa. Yeah, baby!

Behind me on the patio, the other hypnotized kids are awake, pointing and staring at me. “Oh… my… God!” gasps Melania, possibly having a heart attack. “Its… its… Its her!”

“Oh, no **_fucking way!_**” Billy McCreedy cries, looking stunned.

I raise one cocky eyebrow, pursing my lips together. …_sigh_… I get this reaction from my fans all the time, ever since I released my first album. People are positively worshipful when they meet me in the flesh.

“Miss Lipa, Miss Lipa, would you sing us a song?” Slade cries, thrusting a bottle of water into my hand. I stare at the bottle, not understanding.

“This is a **_microphone_**,” Slade tells me, snapping his finger once.

I blink. Oh, of course! He handed me a microphone! I know exactly what to do. Swaying my hips, I begin to dance and sing: _“Falling into you, baby / Even electricity can't compare to what I feel when I'm with you / Ooh, baby / Giving up my ghost for you / And now I'm seethrough…”_

The hypnotized kids on stage scream with delight and reach for me. I ignore them. I’m a pro. I know how to dance and sing, and I get this kind of reaction from my fans all the time. I turn my attention to the kids in the audience, who are gawking at me like they can’t believe what they are seeing.

I’m Dua Lipa, baby. This shit happens to me all the time.

*********


	3. The Ace of Wands, Two of Cups, and the Lovers

The next two hours are very, very weird indeed.

After performing as Dua Lipa, I find myself sitting in a chair, and then put into a strange dreamy sleep by that Jack Slade guy. You know… he may think he’s a hypnotist, but I don’t think what he’s doing to me is hypnotism. I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but I don’t think I’m hypnotized.

Maybe I’m dreaming?

Later, the other kids on the patio and I find ourselves turned into aliens. We speak an alien language, we move with alien body motions, we think as aliens would. We fan out across Mr. Melina’s lawn, scanning and inspecting the other Earth people we find there, who, for some reason, find this all very funny. Then we are brought back to the patio and put back into sleep.

Later, we magically find ourselves at the beach, stretching out under the tropical sun. Its warm and relaxing, and we all start to work on our tans. But whenever Slade says a certain keyword, we discover that we are completely body-shy, and desperately cover ourselves up with our arms and legs.

And then later, we’re doing even more weird stuff. As I drift deeper into this totally bizarre dream, I lose track of all the crazy things I am compelled to do. I just go with the flow. I haven’t a care in the world.

But I don’t think I’ve been hypnotized.

*********

“And now,” I hear Slade’s voice in my head, “in your minds and your imaginations, I want you to see the most perfect lover for you, the most perfect boyfriend or girlfriend for you, **_for you_**, right now. See them in your mind!”

I hear him snap his fingers, and suddenly, I can see a blur of several men. I see Jack Slade himself, but I also see Stephan Johansson. And Jamal Taylor. Somehow, in my brain, these guys all morph together to make one Mega Superhottie. **_Woof_**, is this guy yummy! I approve…!

“In a moment, I will count to five,” I hear Slade say. “Upon five, you will awaken, and you will look over and see your dream lover next to you. And instantly, your heart will belong to them. You will look into their eyes, and see nothing but the soulmate you’ve always hoped to see. Ready? One, two, three, four… **_five!_**”

My eyes fly open, and I blink in the evening light. Where am I? Oh yeah, I’m on the patio, sitting up here with all these other kids. Why…

Suddenly, I’m aware of someone seated to my immediate left. I feel a magnetic pull toward that person. Slowly, I turn to see…

Catalina.

I gasp. My heart soars. Catalina! Oh, **_Catalina!_** She’s so beautiful! Just gorgeous! I almost swoon as I look upon her.

“Hey,” I say shyly, wondering why I feel so weird and coy.

“Hi,” Cataline murmurs back. She lowers her eyes and blushes.

Suddenly we both realize… We love each other!

Yes, its true. I love her. I love her so incredibly much. I want nothing more than to take her hands and pull her to me and kiss her right on the lips. I’ve never kissed a girl before. Hell, I’ve never felt… **_that way_**… about a girl before. But…

Well, just look at Catalina! She’s so awesome.

I gush, leaning toward the lovely Argentinean. She smiles at me, and I feel a rush of joy bubble up inside me.

Meanwhile, I’m aware of the audience laughing their heads off. I look across the patio, and I see all the other kids on the patio paired off, each girl-boy, girl-boy, girl-boy. And each pair are clasping hands and gazing into one another’s eyes like… well, like they’re in love or something. There’s Izzy embracing Billy McCreedy. And Melanie is snuggling up with Jamal Taylor. And Staci is head-over-heels enamored with Stephan Johansson. The boys look just as smitten.

“Love is in the air, you guys,” Slade announces, a sing-song quality in his voice. “Let’s talk to the happy couples, shall we?”

The hypnotist saunters up to Izzy and Billy. “You two look really serious, don’t you?” he asks.

“Oh, yes,” Izzy purrs, smiling like the cat who caught the canary. “We’re deeply in love.”

_Ha!_ I think to myself. Izzy must be on something. She can’t stand Billy; she thinks he has BO.

“Tell us about the life you two will have together,” urges Slade.

“Oh,” Izzy sighs, gazing longingly at Billy, “we’ll have three kids.”

“Six,” insists Billy, holding her closer.

Izzy and Billy giggle, as if they haven’t a care in the world.

I feel a hand on my own. Catalina is leaning closer to me.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” the Argentinean whispers to me. Her green eyes are so earnest.

You know what? I’ve met literally **_dozens_** of hornball guys (and older men) who have told me that I’m beautiful. I am beautiful, I know it, shut up. But for some reason, Catalina speaks these words, and I immediately blush and hide my face. I’m so flattered, I might burst.

“You **_are_**,” Catalina urgently whispers, and draws even closer to me. I can feel her body pressing against mine. I like it.

“You… really think I’m beautiful?” I ask quietly. I can feel my cheeks burning.

“I **_do_**,” insists Catalina, speaking so that only I can hear her. You know what? Her voice is so soft and musical. Its casting a spell over me.

“Well…” I sheepishly admit, “I’ve always thought that you were gorgeous.” I look up, gazing right into those soulful eyes of hers. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Catalina’s mouth opens in surprise, and I find myself focused on her lips.

I lean forward. She leans forward.

My eyes fall shut as our mouths barely touch.

Oh, this is… nice.

I’m dimly aware of kids shouting and laughing: “Girls kissing! Girls kissing! Ewww!”

And suddenly Slade is before Catalina and me, his strong hands on our shoulders. “Girls, **_sleep!_**” he cries.

My mind descends into darkness, and I remember nothing more.

*********

I’m not sure what happens next. Slade’s weird performance continues, but for whatever reason, I’m not a part of it. I am sitting in my chair, my eyes closed, my body perfectly relaxed. I’m unable to move. I don’t want to move or do anything.

Then I hear Slade announce, “That’s my show, ladies and gentlemen! Good evening! Happy birthday, Staci!” And there is clapping and cheering. But I remain immobile.

*********

Some time later, I think I remember getting up and walking into Mr. Melina’s house. I think Catalina’s with me. But I’m not sure.

I hear two male voices. The first is definitely Staci’s dad: “How could you hypnotize two girls to become lesbians???” He sounds distraught.

The second voice is Slade’s sexy baritone. “I didn’t hypnotize anyone to be gay,” he says crossly. “These two just paired up with one another on their own.”

“Jesus, if their parents find out…” Mr. Melina panics. “Kaylee’s folks, they’re pretty conservative.” He pauses. “Can Kaylee hear me now?”

“She can,” Slade replies. “She’s just so relaxed, she couldn’t care less about **_anything_** that you’re saying.”

_Phew_, he got that right! I’m so zonked out right now, these guys could be talking about cannibalizing me, and I’d be totally fine with it.

“Hypnotize them to be straight,” demands Mr. Melina. “Then erase their memories, get me? Make them forget tonight ever happened.”

“Dude-“ Slade protests.

“Do it,” Mr. Melina snaps. “Or you can forget your check.”

Slade sighs. “Kaylee and Catalina,” I hear him say within my mind, “listen to me very, very closely…”

*********

The next few days are odd ones for me. Now that school’s out, I don’t see many of my peers, at least not on a daily basis. But we occasionally bump into one another around town.

On Wednesday, I meet Izzy and Melanie at the mall. Right away, I can tell something’s on Melanie’s mind.

“What?” I demand, as we’re moving through JC Penny.

“Yo Izzy,” Melanie grins. “You still want to have six kids with Billy McCreedy?”

“Ewww!” Izzy gags. “That **_stinkbag?_**”

Melanie laughs.

“Yeah, well, you wanted to marry Jamal Taylor,” Izzy fires back. Immediately, Melanie’s laughter dies.

“What are you crazy bitches talking about?” I demand.

“You don’t remember?” Izzy shakes her head. “We got hypnotized at Staci Melina’s Sweet Sixteen.”

I fix her with a quizzical expression.

“Its true,” Melanie says, a twinkle in her eye. “You did too, Kaylee.”

Now I know my girls are blowing smoke. Me, hypnotized? Please.

*********

But I reconsider twenty minutes later when we bump into Sarah McMillian and her squad at the food court. “Hey Kaylee,” sneers Sarah. “You and Catalina announcing the engagement soon?”

Sarah and her girls erupt into gales of laughter.

I can’t let this pass. “What’re you talking about?” I growl.

“Kaylee doesn’t remember!” crows Sarah, causing even more guffaws.

“You and Catalina,” Heather Long tells me. “When that hypnotist guy told everybody that you were in love, you and Catalina started sucking face. Like crazy!”

“Shut up,” I command. I feel my face turn red.

“Its true!” Heather cries, delighted. “We all saw it!”

Yeah? If its true… how come I don’t remember anything? I can’t really remember much from Staci’s party, truth be told. But I think I’d remember smooching that Argentinean freak.

*********

The encounter with Sarah and her girls rattled me more than I let on to Izzy and Melanie. At first blush, I should laugh the whole thing off. Me? Kissing Catalina? Seriously, how ridiculous. C’mon. I can’t stand that insolent bitch.

But there’s something familiar in the taunts of the other girls. Like… I don’t remember kissing Catalina to be sure, but… its like I can totally **_imagine_** doing it. Like I did it in a dream, or something. Its familiar, while being strange at the same time.

Besides, I keep hearing about this kissing episode from other kids. Lucy Pelter swears up and down that she watched me smooch Catalina during Slade’s show. And Lucy is terrified of me; she wouldn’t lie. Not to me. Randall Hoover says the same thing. So does Gordon D’Antario. And Jon Tatars. Are all of these people lying?

The more I stew over this superweird situation, the more it starts driving me crazy. Like, really flippin’ bonkers. What the hell???

*********

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. I keep thinking about Catalina so much, the girl’s face is appearing in my cereal, in clouds, in dreams. I freakin’ see her everywhere.

What can I do?

I toy with the idea of asking Staci’s father for more information about that Jack Slade guy. But that doesn’t make much sense. If I never got hypnotized, what would talking to Slade do? Besides, I’ve a funny feeling that Mr. Melina won’t help me.

No, the person I have to confront is the person who keeps popping up in my thoughts. I’ve gotta go and lay down words with the Argentinean herself.

She just better not piss me off this time. You know, I’ll bet **_she’s_** the one behind all these kissing rumors.

*********

Working my connections, I learn that Catalina lives in one of the big houses down on Kenwood Parkway, not far from the Lake of the Isles. **_Really_** pretty house. I have to swallow my jealously as I march up to the front door. That armored, black SUV which dropped her off at school is parked in one of the secondary garages. Nice.

A plump woman with tanned skin and big green eyes answers the door when I knock. Catalina’s mom, no doubt.

“Hi, is Cat home?” I ask, hoping it sounds like Catalina and I are the best of friends.

The woman blinks at me, then smiles. “Oh, you are one of Catalina’s friends?” she asks, relieved. Her accent is strong. “I am, how you say, so relieved!” Confiding in me, she adds, “Catalina, I worry that she is bullied at school. But she never complain.”

“Ah,” I say, oddly feeling a pang of guilt. “Um, could I see Cat, please?”

“She is out back,” the woman beams. “You go right ahead!”

*********

Catalina’s back yard is practically a state park. The lawn is huge, dotted with fawning trees. There’s an enormous swingset, a badminton court, and two flower gardens. You can see the lake not far off.

As I’m admiring the view, I suddenly spot Catalina. She’s sitting cross-legged beneath a towering oak tree, her back to me. Something on the ground before her has captured her attention. She doesn’t notice that I’m here.

I haven’t laid eyes on Catalina since… well, Staci’s party, I guess. But I don’t remember her there. And before that? …Geez… I guess that time when I was a bitch to her face. That seems like a long time ago.

I approach the Argentinian girl, my discomfort increasing with every step. I see what she’s doing now; her Tarot cards are spread out before her on the grass, and she’s intently studying a small book in her hands. There’s no breeze today, so the cards rest easily on ground.

Catalina’s long, brown hair is hanging over one shoulder, and she’s absently twirling a strand about her fingers as she reads. I watch as she then draws another card, frowns at it, then places it next to the others.

You know, there’s got to be a lot to this Tarot card reading stuff. I don’t know that I believe in it, but Catalina is obviously deep in concentration. Its not something you pick up in an afternoon.

As I draw closer, Catalina glances up. Her eyes widen when she sees me.

“Uh, hi,” I say, offering a lame shrug. “I was… ah…”

Catalina shrinks back. Her face is drawn and carefully composed. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

I try to begin again. “Listen, have you been telling other kids that we kissed at Sheri’s Sweet Sixteen?”

“No,” Catalina replies, still wary.

“Well, we didn’t,” I insist, feeling a little stupid. “I would never kiss you.”

Catalina nods. Her eyes shoot down to the Tarot cards. She’s clearly worried that I’m about to trample on them or something.

This feels wrong. I came over here because… I don’t know… I thought maybe Catalina was behind this whole stupid rumor mill. Like, maybe she was spreading shit about me to make me look bad.

But the girl seems totally cowed. Like she’s been even more miserable than me throughout this whole ordeal! If she wasn’t behind the rumors… Well, I hadn’t considered that.

She seems vulnerable. But beautiful. Like the flowers in the garden.

Suddenly, I am embarrassed for myself. Why did I come here? Should I just storm away, and try to forget the whole thing?

I find my gaze drift down to the Tarots cards. The card lying before my foot depicts a tall woman, with long brown hair, a beautiful face, and large, soft eyes. Like Dua Lipa. She gazes out at me with a mixture of wisdom and calm.

For reasons I’ll never understand, I hear myself say, “Huh. This one looks like you.” I nudge the card with my shoe.

Catalina glances down, and now I realize that she’s actually more beautiful than the woman in the card.

“That one?” the Argentinian says softly. “That’s the High Priestess. I was doing a reading on myself, and she came up first.”

“Oh?” I say, perhaps mocking a little too much. “You think that you’re gonna be a priestess, or something?”

“The Priestess signifies intuition, instinctive knowledge,” Catalina says, once again fingering her hair. “Also, she has a distinctive feminine power. I like her for that.”

“Huh,” I say, getting interested despite myself. “Well, you have a certain feminine power yourself, sister.”

Catalina’s worried eyes scan my face. “Are you mocking me?” she asks.

“No,” I say quickly. “Sorry.”

I grimace, then sit cross-legged across from Catalina. “Look,” I say, awkwardly. “I came over here because kids are saying…”

“That we kissed each other,” Catalina murmurs, her eyes downcast.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “I didn’t like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Catalina offers. “I also wish they would stop.”

Her tenderness surprises me. If our roles were reversed, if she was the popular queen and she came over to my house wanting to talk about an alleged kiss between us, I’d be up in arms.

She seems hesitant, as if she wants to say something. But can’t.

I chew on my lip. “What else did your reading tell you about yourself?” I ask.

Catalina gestures to two more cards next to the High Priestess. “Of course, you can’t see them from there,” she tells me.

“Oh? Why not?”

“The direction of the cards is important,” Catalina explains. “A card’s meaning completely changes if it is upside-down, or right-side up. You’d have to see them from my perspective to truly understand them.”

“Huh,” I say.

I guess that makes sense. I get up, then move to sit down next to Catalina. We are now shoulder-to-shoulder. “So what do you have?” I ask.

“The High Priestess indicates that I am dwelling on some subconscious problem,” Catalina sighs. She points to the next card. “This is the Hanged Man, which signifies that I must let go and surrender my anxieties to learn what vexes me. I think.”

“Sounds very Zen,” I observe. “So what’s the final card?”

“The Hermit,” grumbles Catalina.

“Oh, that’s totally you,” I agree quickly.

“Yes, but he is reversed for me. In a reversed position, the Hermit means I am isolated and alone, but also that I can’t find what I’m looking for,” Catalina says, depressed. “That I’ll need the help of someone else to push through my problem.”

There’s a pause as I study her lovely face. She really has stunning green eyes. To my surprise, my heart is going out to her.

“Do a reading on me again,” I say, feeling completely impulsive.

“You?” Catalina says, shocked and a little suspicious. “I thought you considered the cards to be witchcraft?”

“Yeah, well…” I smirk, “I’m feeling curious. Besides, the Hermit says you need the help of someone else. Maybe my cards will show that I’m that someone else.” I flash a winning smile. “Who knows?”

Catalina hesitates, then gives me a strange look. “You are, how do you say, hotheaded,” she chides me. “If you do not like what the card say, you will-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just read me, okay?” I say, almost feeling playful.

Catalina offers a small smile. She quickly shuffles, then draws. I watch carefully as she lays down the first card.

“The Ace of Wands,” she says approvingly. “This signifies growth, potential. Kaylee, you are also looking for something, and you are getting close.”

“Okay,” I acknowledge.

Another card. “Ah,” muses Catalina. “The Two of Cups. Mutual Attraction. So then you are looking for a romantic partner.”

Whoa. Romantic partner? I just heard a record needle skip.

“Hold on,” I say quickly, alarmed at where this is heading. “Why would-“

“Have faith that the cards see your destiny,” Catalina says calmly. “These first two cards lead you to…”

She lays down one last card, and her eyes widen. “The Lovers. Harmony and instant emotional happiness with someone else.” She looks at me. “Someone you’ve felt a strong connection to.”

I stare into those crystal green eyes, and suddenly…

…I remember everything. I remember being on Mr. Melina’s patio, completely hypnotized, completely in love with Catalina. I remember how beautiful she looked, and how much I wanted to be with her. And to kiss her.

I suck in a shocked breath, blown away by the feelings suddenly springing into my memory. At the same time, Catalina’s eyes grow, and I know: she remembers too.

An unspoken connection is born between the two of us. I remember how wonderful it was to think I was in love with her. How I adored her eyes and her sweet voice. How gentle her touch felt. How nice her body felt against mine. In that tiny moment in time, I felt so complete, so compassionate, so loved. I wanted nothing but joy for her.

I’ve never felt that way about another human being. Ever.

“Oh my God…” I murmur, stunned.

Catalina smiles. Her small hand slides up to caress my cheek.

“Are we hypnotized?” I ask her, unable to look away.

“Yes,” she replies. “Well, no. Maybe.” She laughs quietly. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe the hypnosis touched something deep within us, something just under the surface?” I murmur. I’m feeling so delirious, like I’ve reached the end of a long journey. I take her hand; her skin is soft.

So much emotion is flowing through me, my head is spinning. I’m being swept away by the moment. It feels wonderful.

Catalina blushes slightly. She opens her mouth, and I know what she’s about to say.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” she whispers.

I must look even more stunned, because Catalina’s smile grows wider. “You are,” she insists, leaning forward.

“You… really think I’m beautiful?” I say, my voice barely audible.

“I do,” Catalina assures me. I’m amazed; the girl is in love! And so am I. It happened so fast…! Just like the cards predicted.

Our lips meet again. This time, the embrace is long and tender and nothing else in this world matters.

*********


End file.
